Stupid Christmas
by SweetJubilee
Summary: December 25th, Dean and Sam are stuck in a graveyard, salting and burning, good ole' fashion brotherly banter ensues. . .


Once again. . . many, many thanks to Faye _(Yeah!Faye)_ who agreed to betta this for me. The woman deserves a medal.

Nope. I don't own them either. . .

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

To Rozzy, a fellow **SFTCOL(AR)S **who wanted a Secret Santa fic full of "whumpage before brotherly angst and love wins the day". Well, I fell short of whumpage, (and angst) but I did come up with the next best thing.

Dear sweet Rozzy, the utter personification of BahHumbug, this one's for you. No, there's not an evil Santa, **but** I hope there's enough EbenezerScroogeishness in it for you to enjoy it. And, rest assured, the brothers are **not** going to "drown in the saccharine goodness of a large fat man in an ill fitting tight red suit".

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Stupid Christmas. What a messed up holiday. Having to wait till freakin' 3 in the morning to dig up this one stupid grave, just because there was always dense people hanging around visiting the tombstone of someone long gone, just so we can salt and burn yet another dad who died getting himself stuck in a chimney."

_sigh_ "I know, Dean."

"Now the ground's frozen solid and it's gonna take the entire rest of the night to dig up this grave . . . Hey, watch it there. There's a pretty good size rock close to where you're digging. Don't hit it. Here, I'll shine the light on it . . . Have I mentioned it's **three o-clock in the morning** the 25th of December and we're out here digging up some dude's grave? Gheess! I **hate** Christmas! It's not even the day Jesus was born."

"I know, Dean."

"It's **really **the Alban Athhan. The day the Celtics have their Vigil Festival. **They're** the ones who decided to decorate a tree. The kissing under the mistletoe thing was their idea too."

"I know."

"The Catholic church just decided to claim it as their own so they could get in on the party."

_rolls eyes_ "I know, Dean."

"The whole: Santa in a red suit, coming down the chimney, reindeer, Rudolph, the North Pole, Santa being fat, bringing presents . . . every stupid image of Kris Kringle – Father Christmas – Santa Clause – whatever – was created by brainless poems, the Montgomery Ward company, commercial marketing, Coca-Cola, and really old paintings. One great big enormous lie after another that parents force on their kids year after year."

"I know."

_volume increases _"And when the poor kid finely realizes that his parents have basically been **lying** to him since the year he was born, it's a **bad** thing!"

"I _**know**_, Dean! **Shut up**!"

_stunned_ "Sheesh, Sammy. What crawled up your butt? . . . Here. You hold the flashlight and I'll dig for a while."

"It's not that, Dean. Look. The holiday season isn't all bad. As a matter of fact, I, for one, **like** it when people pass you on the street with a smile on their face as opposed to a snarl."

"Yeah? Did you happen to forget that two nights ago we had to sleep in my **car**? Even the most god-awful dump of a motel was booked solid. The entire month of December sucks."

"Really? Did _**you**_ happen to forget that the candles we used up last week we bought at half price? That's thanks to Kwanzaa, Dude. Well, Kwanzaa and Hanukkah. White, green, black, **and** red candles? That summoning ritual has got to be the **only** one where the actual color of the candles you light matter."

_smirk_ "Houses burn to the ground because of candles left lit by curtain windows, ya know."

_counter smirk _"Yeah? Well, speaking of candles, no one stopped to question our sexual preference last week when we bought out the **entire stock** of those lavender scented ones. Any other time of year and we'd be getting weird looks."

_cocks an eyebrow _"Holy Water's harder to swipe because there's always people in church milling around for no good reason."

_eyes twinkle as the challenge is realized and the game begins. . . _"Rock salt's a lot cheaper because everyone's making homemade ice-cream."

"The same freakin' annoying songs play over the air **every**whereyou go."

"Adam Sandler's 'Hanukkah Song' plays over the radio too. We **both** like that song."

"Smelling the same fake cinnamon and pine smell in Every. Single. State of the Unites States."

"Getting really good discounts on knives, guns, and ammo."

"Traffic's one bumper to bumper jam after another."

"It's the only time of year that we can buy any herb we want in raw form **and** in bulk."

"The people who **are **behind the wheel are swerving like a crazy person because they're to drunk from homemade eggnog to stay on the road . . .What is it?. . . What could you **possibly **be smiling for? . . . Here, you're turn to dig again, Freak."

"When we watch the movie 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas', you win at the 'Who' game every time. You can't tell me you don't **love** that. Do you realize that the word 'Who' is said over 100 times in that little 30 minute cartoon? Drinking me under the table is one of your **favorite** things to do in this great big world of ours."

"Ha! And whose fault is that? I swear, Sammy, you've got the alcohol tolerance of a 12 year old girl."

"And you have the alcohol tolerance of Dad. – _eyes snap open wide as he catches himself – quickly recovers –_ Uhh. And then there's the junk food. December the 26th there's always aisles and aisles **full **of candy that's at **least** 50 percent off."

_sad smile_ "Alright Tiny Tim! You win. Christmas is a wonderful, sugary sweet holiday where nothing bad ever happens, every child is happy, and all your dreams come true."

"And don't you forget it."

**THUD**!

_smile_ "Bout freakin' time! Nothing like the sound of a shovel hitting the lid of a coffin to put you in a festive holiday mood, right Sammy?"

_grin_ "Yeah? How about the howl of the ghost of a serial killer once it's realized it's trapped in a ring of salt for all eternity?"

_eyes twinkle_ "Or the sound of Bloody Mary shattering into a million pieces?"

"Or the Hookman's ghost dissolving into an inferno when the silver it's connected too melts?"

"Or a Wendigo going up in flames?"

"An old barn burning to the ground with the figment of everyones' imagination trapped inside forever."

"A Woman in White being hauled off to hell by her own kids that **she** drowned."

"A really, really, **really** old tree burning to the ground."

"A girl ghost dissipating when her hair on her doll is destroyed."

"A ghost truck disappearing **right** in front of you when you did **not** know that's what was gonna happen."

_big smile and shakes head _"Dude, you've gotta let that one go."

_**Ssssssssssssss**_

"Nothing beats the hiss of a good ole' fashion salt and burn, though, does it Sammy? . . . _eyes twinkle_ . . . Come on; let's fill in this grave. I just **happen** to know that 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas' comes on in about 40 minutes and there just **happens** to be an entire case of Icehouse in our motel waiting for us to take a swig each and every time someone says the word 'who'."

_genuine smile _"Merry Christmas, Dean."

_genuine smile _"Merry Christmas, Sam."

_smirk_ "And God bless us, every one."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS

Well? Rozzy? Did the Humbugishness of this fic make up for the utter lack of **ANY**thing scary?

I hope?

P.S. If anyone knows why I can't find neither my name nor my stories when I look for them under the Search heading, I'd love to know the reason why.


End file.
